


The inside man

by NYWCgirl



Category: White Collar
Genre: Alternate Universe, Friendship, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Intrigue, Taking Care of Someone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 21:31:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16395461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NYWCgirl/pseuds/NYWCgirl
Summary: Neal Caffrey has never been caught. Why? Because Peter Burke is his inside man at the F.B.I.





	The inside man

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old prompt left on collarkink in 2014.  
> This fic fills the ‘Secret identity discovered’ square on my H/C Bingo card and was written for Caffrey-Burke Day 2018, but I was a bit late since there was no announcement in this shrinking fandom. But that is so not an excuse, so here it is, anyway.

Peter takes the space at the head of the conference table and studies his agents for a moment. He handpicked them himself for his White Collar team. They are all good agents and he is confident that they will do great work. Hell, he even can see some of them grow within the ranks of the FBI.

‘OK, listen up. We got a new case, an informant gave us information on a medicare fraud. He moves to the next slide and the picture of a man shows. This man, Arthur Franklin is assumed to be the brain behind this operation. People are not treated properly and the insurance companies are robed of thousands of dollars. All the info is in the binders I gave you. Jones, Rooms, I would like you to take lead in this case.’

‘Peter, we are working on the James Bonds case.’

‘That´s right, what is the status?’

‘We are planning on a stake out tonight, because we are informed that he would show up at the new Impressionist exposition that is in town.’

‘OK, do the stake out, maybe we will get lucky this time and then pick up on this case, because the higher ups want to give priority to this case.’

The agents nod.

‘Brant, you were working on that counterfeit case at White trees…’

 

* *  *

 

‘I am telling you Neal, we can do this. It will require perfect timing, but if anyone can, it is you who can pull this off.’

‘No Mozzie, we are not doing it. I´m sorry.’

‘Neal, the client I spaying real good, why wouldn´t we do it. I thought you liked the impressionists?’

‘My gut tells me to stay away from this one.’

‘Seriously, your gut?’

Neal smiles at the face Mozzie makes.

‘Yes Moz, sorry, we are not doing it and that is my final answer.’

‘OK, if you are sure of it.’

‘I am.’

‘Pour me another glass then.’

Neal gives him a bright smile and picks up the bottle.’

 

* *  *

 

Peter enters the office and can see Jones sitting behind his desk , so he stops in front of it.

‘How did the stake out go? I didn´t expect you in.’

‘Caffrey didn´t show.’

Peter nods.

‘Well, don´t beat yourself up over it. These things happen, and Neal Caffrey is a slipper one. Maybe one of the best in the business. But I think you are still on the right track. So follow our gut, but remember… the medicare case.’

‘Of course Peter, no problem.’

Peter walks up to his desk and starts his computer while he packs his stuff away. He studies Jones and can see he opened the binder Peter gave him yesterday. Jones is a good agent, maybe his best agent. But not as good as he is.

He takes the mail that the clerk put on his desk and starts checking it.

A couple of hours later, Jones come up the stairs and enters his office.

‘What do you have for me Jones?’

Last night, a masked man thought to have acted alone crept into Paris’ Musée d’Art Moderne and slipped out with five priceless paintings, including Picasso’s “Le Pigeon aux Petits Pois” and Matisse’s “La Pastorale.” French investigators are still hunting down the cat burglar.’

‘Hmm, they are unsellable due to the public nature of the crime. It fits Caffrey´s work. Were people harmed or items damaged?’

‘No nothing, he went in and came out with nobody the wiser.’

‘Sounds like Caffrey. Check it out, it could be he left the States.’

‘Looks like it. I will have a look at it.’

‘How is the medicare case coming along?’

‘We think we have a lead through some accounts of Franklin, we found some anomalies.’

‘Good work, keep me briefed.’

 

* *  *

 

Months pass and Caffrey´s trail has cooled down. It is clear to everybody that he is working in Europe at the moment and the White collar team works on their day to day case load.

‘Peter!’

‘Yes, what is it?’

Diana, their latest probie walks into his office.

‘Jones wants you to know that he a report about a thief that entered a private home, the owner has an extensive art collection.’

‘Did he take anything?’

‘Not that we know of, but the owner shot at the thief.’

‘The thief was hit?’

‘Blood was found at the scene, so yeah, he probably has.’

‘This is a case for NYPD, not the FBI.’

‘No, but Jones suspects it is Neal Caffrey.’

‘Possible, but Caffrey is on a personal free shopping spree in Europe, he has robbed several museums, so why now coming back? Let Jones contact NYPD and we will see.’

The moment Diana leaves his office, Peter´s mind goes a mile a minute. He takes his coat and phone and leaves the office.

‘Diana, Elizabeth called, she is outside, so I am going to meet her.’

‘Sure thing boss.’

 

* *  *

 

Once outside the building he takes his burner phone and dials a number by memory.

‘Peter!’ a chocked off voice answers.

‘What happened? Where are you?’

‘I am in January.’

‘What?’

‘I… I am in a friend´s safe house.’

‘How bad?’

‘Bad.’

‘OK, give me the address, I will be over.’

Neal gives him the address and Peter takes a cab towards the place. It turns out to be an old janitor building of a school. When he enters there is no noise, not even when he calls out for Neal. He unclips his gun and slowly makes his way into the building. On an old matrass he finds Neal, sleeping or unconscious, he is not sure, but the kid is pale and his breathing shallow. He has been bandaged but blood seeped through. He puts his gun away and crouches down, shaking Neal´s shoulder.

‘Neal? Neal!’

Neal slowly opens his eyes, his gaze is unsteady and Peter can tell he is not really lucid.

‘Neal, I need to check the wound and re-bandage it, OK?’

Neal slowly nods.

Peter looks around and finds an open first aid kit, probably the one Neal used to bandage himself, because the kit is ransacked. He picks up the scissors and fresh bandages and kneels next to Neal. Neal has closed his eyes once again.

‘Neal, slow down your breathing, you are almost hyperventilating.’

He slowly cuts away the blood soaked bandages and checks the wound, it is a clean through and through, nothing major seems to be hit, but it needs to be sutured. Peter takes the rubbing alcohol. He knows it will hurt as a bitch and should only be used to sterilize instruments, there are better products to clean out wounds. But since it is all he has, he pours it in the wound. Neal screams and his eyes snap open, not really understanding what is going on.

‘It´s OK, Neal, it´s OK.’

Neal squeezes his eyes shut and pants.

‘Neal, I want you to take a deep breath, OK? I know it hurts but we need to stop the infection. The wound is already showing signs of infection.’

Neal starts gagging and Peter quickly takes the trashcan that is standing next to the door and holds it in front of Neal´s face, but nothing come up.

‘You haven´t eaten anything in some time, right? I know you. You are going to be OK, Neal, I will take care of it.’

Neal nods and closes his eyes and lets himself fall back on the matrass.

Peter takes a pressure bandage and re-bandages the wound. He takes the garbage and dumps it in the bin he put down next to Neal. He is thinking how to proceed next, when he hears the door open. He crouches down next to Neal and pulls out his gun once again and points it at the open door.

‘Neal?’ a male voice calls out.

‘Stay there, hands where I can see them.’ Peter calls out, gun raised.

In the door stands a man with his arms raised.

‘Who are you?’ he asks.

‘Who are you.’

‘Call me Mr. Havisham, I am an acquaintance of Neal. You must be the suit.’

Peter lowers the gun, followed by Havisham who lowers his arms. He quickly walks up to Neal and checks the wound.

‘We need to take him to a hospital.’

‘Can´t do suit. I will take care of it.’

‘You have a medical degree?’

‘No, but I have enough experience to take care of this. Stay with him will I get supplies.’

Peter nods. Neal has closed his eyes and Peter is not sure whether or not he is sleeping or lost conscious again. He doesn’t look to good and he lost a fair amount of blood. He hopes this Havisham type knows what he is doing.

 

* *  *

 

‘Do you have any leads on Caffrey?’

Jones shakes his head.

‘No, we put a BOLO out on him and send a message to all hospitals, medical centers and doctors connected to the alert system, but nobody matching his description checked in with a health care worker as far as we know.

‘Too bad. Hopefully he found medical attention in time.’

‘You like the kids.’ Jones observes.

‘You well, he has a certain _je ne sais quoi_. Too bad we will catch him. He will make a mistake and when he does, we will be there.’

Jones nods, ‘well put Peter. Goodnight.’

‘Rest, tomorrow is a busy day. You need to testify in the Karl Latson Trial, don´t you?

‘Yes, the prosecutor is convinced we will get a conviction, so.’

‘Great, good luck.’

Peter watches as Jones leaves the office. Most of the agents already left and those who are still here are working on a case and don´t pay attention to him. He takes his briefcase and coat and says goodbye to the remaining colleagues.

He gets in the car and calls Elizabeth that he will be later, not a real surprise there and stops at a Chinese take- out place where he orders dinner. He then makes his way to January but not before backtracking himself to check if anyone is following him. Jones is sometimes too smart. When he is convinced everything is clear, he drives to January and parks the care a couple of blocks away. He walks up to the house and lets himself in and puts the take out in the small kitchenette.

He walks up to the bed and can see Neal is sleeping. His cheeks are still flushed with fever, but he looks better than he did two days ago. The bandages are clear so he isn´t actively bleeding anymore. He must admit Havisham took good care of Neal.

He walks back to the kitchenette and starts reheating the take-out when he can hear Havisham enter the house.

‘Hey suit, I am home.’ Havisham calls out.

‘How did you know I was here?’

‘Oh please…’ Havisham rolls his eyes.

‘I brought Neal chicken soup and some Chinese take-out for us.’

‘I don´t eat meat, suit.’

‘Yeah, I figured, that is why I got you fried pickled cabbage and bean sprouts.’

‘Really?’ Havisham checks out the plastic container and when he realizes Peter didn´t lie, he takes it and hands Peter some chop sticks from the cupboard.

‘I got some chopsticks from the take out place.’

‘Yeah, it is your choice to use those. And by the way, you can call me Mozzie.’

‘Mozzie?’

‘Yeah, is there something wrong with your hearing?’

Mozzie walks up to Neal with his own food and the soup and puts it down on the table. He gently shakes Neal.

‘Wake up Neal, the suit brought food and you need to eat something.’

‘Neal slowly wakes and groans when he moves to quickly.

‘ 'm not hungry.’

‘Yeah, well, you need to stay hydrated and keep up your strength, so eat.’

Mozzie sits down on the bed and starts spooning soup into Neal who doesn´t protest, and just opens his mouth whenever the spoon appears. They must be really good friends. But Peter is glad Neal has someone who takes care of him. He makes a mental note to check out this Mozzie Havisham but for now he is happy that Neal is being taken care off, by the most unlikely couple.

When the soup container is half empty, Neal´s eyes are slipping shut. It is clear he is exhausted just from eating and both men work together to put Neal in a more comfortable position. They then take a seat and start eating. Mozzie studies Peter during his meal.

‘So you are Neal´s inside man in the FBI. I always wondered who this came to be…’

 

 


End file.
